Help
by lilylynn
Summary: Remaining aware of her surroundings, Emily tried to keep a steady grip on her gun. The throbbing ache caused her hand to shake. Along with the loss of blood, she had lost track of time. And that was not good.
1. Chapter 1

To quote Finding Neverland, 'This is just a bit of silliness really'… But I enjoyed writing this and plan on adding more. I hate putting Prentiss in more pain but having someone hurt themselves on the job gets your fanfiction minds whirling.

I own nothing of Criminal Minds. Thank you to everyone who has stopped by on my last few fics. Your words are incredible.

* * *

~.~.~.~

Wiping at the blood running mercilessly down her arm was useless in itself. Stopping the tears from forming in her eyes was also a hopeless act. Emily couldn't believe her luck. Well, actually she could.

She ought to be quite used to her fabulous timing. The pain was extremely sharp and coursing back and forth but she knew if she just held on, her body could make itself numb to the feeling. The discomfort would drown out. It always had in the past, of that she was sure.

Remaining aware of her surroundings Emily tried to keep a steady grip on her gun. The throbbing ache caused her hand to shake.

Along with the loss of blood, she had lost track of time. And that was not good.

Stepping around the body on the floor, Emily silently cursed this case and everything involved. Never had splitting up turned out this bad. Splitting up was never good to begin with but the idea that a large group of men were around torturing women with knives left Emily not so game.

The ringing in her ears was dying down a little; the gunshots putting two bullets right into the chest of the pitiful excuse of a man on the floor had echoed off the walls, automatically resonated uncomfortably in her ears. The team had to of heard it. Lord knows Emily did. She could only hope they were ok. Even though she never wanted to admit defeat or admit she needed help, Emily wished at least one of the team was there with her.

Maybe they were heading her way to assist in getting her the hell out of there.

No, she couldn't think like that. The three young women hidden away somewhere in this warehouse was what was important right now. They had to find them. Too many women have already fallen to this sick group of men. Emily would like to put several bullets in the rest of them, ending the horrendous torture. They were using these women to fulfill their twisted fantasies.

Emily's stomach churned at the thought. But she was strong. She would do everything she could to save them. Her team was fighting too.

Garcia and Reid were at headquarters. Rossi and JJ had taken the front of the immense warehouse. Morgan and Hotch were covering the two sides and that left Emily to take the door closest to the back.

They were obviously shorthanded. A swat team wasn't exactly available at that moment. Might as well go ahead and say that there was no swat team, just the brave few from the BAU. Not to say that every single agent wasn't capable of handling their own. Emily definitely could shake what was thrown at her. But being this separated caused a hell of a lot of worry. Being outnumbered was one of the worst possible situations. None of the members of the team liked this idea, but when three young women were at stake, fear went out the window. The job had to be done, at any costs.

Feeling her hand quiver again, Emily swallows the lump back in her throat. Bile threatened to rise. Her Kevlar felt entirely too tight. The air was thin. A dense, awful smell wafted throughout the humid building. Controlling her breathing, Emily sets her mind forward. Her eyes went in and out of focus and she cusses again.

Exiting the room, she finds herself entering a short hallway. Streaks painted the metal walls. Stains littered the floor. Emily didn't think on what those dark patches were from. New splatters were joining the old, but Emily paid no attention. Her mind couldn't be on her arm right now.

When that bastard had come around the corner, she thought she was prepared. But he was a big guy. The switchblade in his hand hadn't glinted in the dim light until the extremely sharp edge flew right at her. She had jumped back but it was too late. Everything happened too fast. Wincing as the knife sliced through her skin, Emily let no sound out. Perhaps she should have, but she knew more than likely another one of the sick bastards was close by and would have heard instead of a member of her team, who all were at different ends of the building.

She had managed to grasp her inner strength as well as the handle of her glock and defend herself. Ah, to hell with it. Pulling the trigger twice, she doesn't give him a warning. He didn't deserve one. He was dead the instant his back hit the concrete floor.

So much for staying quiet; the sound ricocheting off the walls was loud enough for anyone to hear. She kept her gun poised, ready for sick bastard number two to appear. When nothing is heard, she strives forward. One down…

* * *

A careful placing of steps is now heard, bringing Emily back to the present. The steps were coming closer to the hall Emily was occupying. Placing her back against the wall, she prepared herself again; knowing there had to be another one. As the steps are about the come around the corner, Emily can sense the slight hesitation. Her head feels heavy, her arm almost like dead weight. But she knows she needs to focus.

Sucking in a breath, she rounds the corner just as the other does and comes face to face with a glock. Behind the gun, is Hotch.

"Emily!"

He looks like he's just scared himself to death as he whispers her name desperately. His gun is immediately lowered just as Emily shakily lowers hers. His dark eyes trace her face, along with her surroundings, checking to see if anyone else was nearby.

"Hotch…" Her voice is hoarse and tired. She blinks several times. Her equilibrium was precariously leaning. "I'm, I'm sorry…"

Little did she know that a small pool of blood was forming by her feet. Hotch, ever the one to be aware of what was going on around him, notices instantly that something is wrong.

He goes on, his voice whispering in concern. "What happened? Are you alright? I heard the shots. We've all been asking over the earpiece if everyone is ok. You were the only one who didn't answer."

Then it dawns on Emily. After the gunshots, she had ripped her earpiece out of her ear. Something she should have never of done. That was definitely training 101. The ringing was at the highest octave and taking the piece out seemed to ease the pressure.

She looks down, feeling guilty; licking the corner of her lips then lifting her eyes back up to his face, she just knows she's going to have her ass handed to her. "Oh…yeah, Hotch I'm so sorry. I must have…"

He didn't let her finish, his eyes and his mind comprehending her face, her arm and the large amount of blood upon the floor. The worry was evident.

"Emily! You're bleeding. Profusely. What the hell happened?!"

Emily knew her arm would eventually numb and quite frankly had almost forgotten about it. What a horrible thing to say, that getting used to the pain was easy. But it certainly was for Emily.

She threw up her wall, anxious to get back to work. Plus the last person that she wanted to show any weakness to was Hotch. Despite his attentions and concerns to whenever she was open to talk. He has made himself available and exposed to her as of late and she was extremely appreciative. He had a hard shell too, much like hers and together they were slowly breaking the surface. But now was not the time. As much as she wanted his attention, now was not the time.

"Oh, I… took care of one of those bastards. And he took care of my arm. I'm ok. We need to get moving…"

She starts to walk around him but Hotch steps to block her. The quick movement he makes surprises her. His voice is now stern but traces of trepidation could be heard. It shakes her to the core. There was also a dark, deep look in his eyes that Emily couldn't stare at for too long. The look caused her to feel something completely different.

"The puddle of blood as well as the line of spots leading up to where we're standing says the opposite of ok. Let me see your arm." There was a multitude of emotions he was showing and she wasn't ready to face them. Or was she?

She sighs, knowing Hotch was just as hardheaded as she was. There was a slight demand in the words, leaving Emily no choice than to shift her left arm towards him.

The light blue of her shirt along the arm was stained and soaked in blood. The red fluid was trickling down her forearm, her life support falling to the ground. The exact line of entry was at a long angle from the inside of her bicep clear down to her elbow. The bastard was skilled, even at an odd angle and strike; he managed to get a good portion of her upper arm. As she slightly lifts her arm, Emily can feel again a sharp burn. Almost like someone was still dragging a searing hot knife along the open wound.

The light was dim so Hotch moved closer, very sure in leaning forward and lightly grasping her wrist to gently turn her arm to some extent up. Fingers hold at her pulse, almost like he was checking to make sure her blood was still pumping through her veins and not just dripping to the floor. His lips are tight and the crease in his brow seems even more troubled. Emily isn't used to this close proximity with him. His smell surpassed the awful air around them, comforting her. And yet her head swam again, lightheadedness coming into play.

"The cut is deep." His voice rumbles low and he clearly looks pissed. "You've lost an incredible amount of blood. We need to get you out of here Prentiss. There…there may be damage to major muscle tissue."

He can see the paleness of her skin, the contrast against the blood like a bright warning sign. And to him, the seriousness of the situation hit like a ton of bricks. It may only be a cut that can easily be stitched up but Hotch didn't dare look past anything. Too many terrible things have happened to Emily and he couldn't stand to see her in more pain. After everything they have all been through in the past year, there was just no break to catch. Therefore, nothing can go unnoticed. And as much as Emily wants to brush things off, they both can't ignore the situation.

His heart is thundering in his ears but Hotch keeps any disturbing thoughts away, despite the desperation beating through his chest to get her out of there.

Always the one to argue for herself and go against the rules, Emily shakes her head. "No we need to save those women. We can't backtrack just because of me. We've come too far. I'll be fine. Please, Hotch."

His hand moves away now and Emily senses the loss of his touch immediately. If anything, at least that meant she still had feeling in her arm and the nerve endings were still functioning.

Almost as if he didn't hear her, Hotch speaks to Garcia through the earpiece. "Garcia, send for an ambulance and paramedic. I want them ready and waiting when we step out of these doors. Prentiss has a very serious injury. But we can't raise alarm to the building. Morgan, Rossi and JJ are closing in on the five other men. This has to be clean until we find the women."

Emily doesn't hear the concerned reply from Garcia, as her earpiece still hangs off her shoulder. Her head is pounding and the room spins. She manages to catch Hotch tucking his gun back into the holster. He proceeds to undo his Kevlar, shifting it to the side to un-tuck his shirt. Grasping the end of the material, he rips a wide amount apart.

Emily opens her mouth to stop him, to say something, but nothing comes out. A small portion of his stomach can be seen and a couple of his scars appear in her vision. The lump in her throat is back. Her gun feels heavier than usual in her right hand and her hold on the handle seems to slip. Pulling her bottom lip between her teeth, Emily forces her fingers to embrace the handle more firmly.

Securing the Velcro back in place, Hotch steps forward again, shred in hand. His fingers are tainted with her blood and her stomach folds at this knowledge. He looks into her pained eyes and can tell her body is wavering.

"Do you need something to bite down on?"

She hears his words but they sound rather far away. Attempting to shake her head, she replies quietly. "No."

He continues to wrap the material around her arm twice, pausing to whisper an 'I'm sorry' before tying a knot tightly across the majority of the open, bleeding wound. Emily gasps outwardly, blinding white heat coursing through her arm and in her head. She squeezes her eyes shut for a moment, seeing stars and breathing deeply. Once again the room spins and just when she feels like the floor has been taken away from her, Hotch wraps his arm around her middle, locking her back in place.

"Morgan just caught two of the men. Rossi and JJ found the women. The rest of the men are guarding them and they are in a stand down." He is repeating to her what is being said through the earpieces. His breath is fluttering along her neck, warm and unfamiliar, his lips close to her ear. "They aren't far from where we are. We might have a better angle at them…Emily, just…just hold on, ok? You've got to hold on for me."

He didn't desire to go any farther into the building with her like this. He desperately wanted her safe, inside an ambulance and getting the proper treatment she most assuredly needed. But what could he do? Garcia had already sent for the ambulance but where they were at was far off from the city. Emily was strong, hardheaded and determined to keep going. He could demand her to leave, boss mode in place…but in the end, it would do no good. They were one in the same. Rossi and JJ needed help and with all of them together, the men would be outnumbered. They just required time.

Emily nods once and she stands a little straighter in his embrace. Her left arm hangs limp at her side.

"Ok, let's get this done so we can get the hell out of here."

She flexes then resettles the grip on her gun again. His arm loosens, then falls back to his own side almost reluctantly and before they continue forward, Emily whispers, "Thank you, Hotch."

Gun back in hand, Hotch meets her eye. A flicker of something they both allow to be seen is shared between them. This time she holds his gaze. This time she doesn't want to look away. He wants to say more but all he can do at that moment is nod. Words always seem hard when they counted.

They walk side by side; covering each other's backs as they round each corner and pass each room. Voices are heard and a whimper of a woman dies in the air.

They are close.

* * *

~.~.~.~

Leave you hanging? Reviews are quite wonderful!

Thanks and love.

lilylynn


	2. Chapter 2

~.~.~.

As they walk carefully down another hall, Hotch can't hold back the words. They had been sitting on his tongue for quite some time. His heart is pounding loud within his chest, his ears thundering with the sound. The slick, sticky feeling along his fingers was yet another unneeded reminder that Emily was next to him, bleeding. He tells himself he should have used more than just a portion of his shirt. There's no way the small bit of fabric was helping. His mind was racing at the time though and the only thought was to put pressure on the gaping wound.

He can see her out of the corner of his eye, matching his pace. Her complexion was entirely too pale and he could tell she was forcing herself to stay alert. The strands of dark, shiny hair were swept off to the other side of her face and Hotch turns his head, watching as her tongue flicks out to wet her dry lips. Her breath was coming out in soft but harsh puffs; she was straining to breathe. He curses this case and what that bastard did to her. And with that anger swirling in his mind, his words finally are released, laced much harsher than he would have preferred.

"Why is it always you? Why is it you that always gets hurt?"

Emily's steps falter for a split second. He always manages to catch her off guard, more so as of late, too. She quickly glances over at him, her vision spinning with the movement. His profile is just like it always is. Strong, chiseled, and focused ahead with stern, unreadable eyes. She closes her own eyes briefly then looks forward again, unsure of what to do.

She doesn't know whether he is accusing or just expressing a sort of concern. Either way, his tone is rough. Not like earlier. Not like the soft, worrying whispers that floated around her, caressing her neck. And this tone rattling her ears rubs her the wrong way.

She tries like hell to keep the sarcasm out of her voice. But alas, the attempt was futile.

"Well…" Scoffing, she looks down at their feet swiftly moving in the same direction. "I guess I'm just a lucky woman who is prone to pain. Terribly sorry I can't afford you a better explanation at the moment."

Hotch grits his teeth, already knowing her reply was going to be something of that nature. She didn't understand the frustration behind his words and Hotch knew she would take what he says out of context. They round the corner and enter a room, taking them closer to the heart of the building. And yet his words continue in spite of himself, still spiked with anger. "I can count on more than one hand the different instances with the same outcome…you being hurt. Bleeding, bruised, broken…it's all blended together in my mind. And this keeps happening, over and over again."

Emily takes a deep breath, his words cutting into her sore ears. To her, he needn't say more. It was clear to her that he believed her weak. He always had. Never trusting her to handle a situation on her own and this was, in his words, a confirmation. He couldn't count on her to get the job done without messing up. She might as well have a glowing neon sign attached to her back, telling the psychopaths to come get her. Was she this cursed? Or was she just too hard on herself?

They are getting very near the others and the focus needed to be steered in the same direction.

She swallows thickly, that bile rising yet again. She flexes the muscles in her left arm and quickly realizes the mistake in doing so. That sharp pain shoots up and down her arm and she bites hard upon her bottom lip to stop from cussing aloud. She had given up keeping her left hand at the butt of her gun. She held the slack arm close to her side at an angle, as if that would protect the mangled limb. The blood was smearing; her blue Kevlar had streaks running down the side.

Rossi's voice is heard and their visual of the women is getting closer with each step they both take.

Emily sets her mind to the task at hand, completely ignoring Hotch and his words. She was not weak and she intended to prove that. Despite the roughness behind his words, she couldn't let them get to her. She couldn't let them put her down. She was done overcompensating but she sure as hell wasn't going to lay low and play dead. Many years ago, she was told that you can't please everyone. As much as she wanted his good attention and his good faith, Emily knew there wasn't much she could do now to change how he felt. She knew she could always do a good job out on the field but shit happens. It just so seemed to happen a lot to her.

What she didn't know was that his words were meant in a completely different fashion. That difficult, determined wall of hers kept her blind to these simple, yet complicated facts. His worry was still very much in play. He cared and was trying to put that out on the table. He was expressing the smallest amount of emotion and it's automatically taken in the wrong sense. Damn, why did they both have to struggle? Thanks to their encounters when she first joined the BAU, probably. That was a hurdle they had already passed though. Or so she thought. He had hoped so.

So what was really going on?

* * *

A big, center lit room is now in front of them. The ceiling is high and there are boxes and crates sitting everywhere. Hotch motions for them to move along the dark outer edge of the room and take cover behind a large crate. There was no way he was going to have her away from his side any time soon.

JJ and Rossi noticed them enter. They continue to talk to the men, distracting them from the women. Morgan has yet to join them.

Before appearing, guns poised, Hotch looks over at Emily. Her breathing is labored and she seems to teeter in her spot, slightly crouched. He wants to reach over to steady her again. He feels the need to hold her, a need that was becoming stronger by each passing moment. The ache in his chest grew at seeing her hurt. Hotch could kick himself for letting her go this far. He needed her in that ambulance, away from all this torture. She meets his eye and he knows she wouldn't have it any other way than to be right where she was. They were much alike in this sense. They nod at each other, an unspoken agreement being said between them. Despite any words traded, when the job was right there in front of them, both Hotch and Emily worked together miraculously. Their communication and tactical skill was spot on with one another.

Together they show themselves to the rest of the class. Emily's eyes immediately go to the three women. They were sitting in an uncomfortable position, chained to a large rusty pole lying on the ground that ran almost the length of the room. Their ratted clothes are torn and stained with blood. They all are shivering terribly and have awful looking bruises along their faces and arms. Emily could see the stab wounds in about ten to fifteen different places and her stomach lurches at the sight. With inner strength, she managed to keep her line of fire on one of the men and took a step forward with Hotch. His deep voice makes their presence known, the three men turning surprised eyes towards them.

"You are surrounded. Place your weapons down on the ground slowly and put your hands up. This has to end tonight and I can assure you that it will."

Two of the men could see their odds; resolve playing along their dirty, ugly features. The other, more than likely the leader of the pack wasn't giving in that easily. He slued and slurred nasty words in all of their directions.

Morgan finally appears from across the room, his focus on the men as he neared the poor women on the floor. They whimper, unable to sit still, desperate to be out of this nightmare.

The leader turned quickly, seeing Morgan closing in on him. All of them send out another warning but he heeded none of it. Letting out a foul snarl, he raises both of his long, sharp knives, his decision made. Making a move towards the women, he is immediately taken down by two shots fired from Morgan.

Everyone slightly jumps. The women shriek, crying knowing that they were being saved. Emily cringes, fighting against the urge to drop her gun and cover her ringing ears.

"Stupid bastard…" Rossi mumbles only loud enough for JJ to hear. She looks over at him, eyes wide. He shrugs. "What? Everyone is thinking it."

The other two knew that they were caught, outnumbered and in complete trouble. They drop their weapons, shaky hands going in the air. Morgan and Rossi restrain them, cuffing their wrists without any problems.

Emily, JJ and Hotch run over to the women. The tracks of tears could be seen running down their frightened faces. What they had endured was going to haunt them, no doubt. All three were very weak and the team had to get them to treatment quick. The rust from the large pipe was more than likely mixing with their bloody wounds. That outcome would not be pleasant. That thought alone drove the agents to hurry.

Rossi was talking to Garcia and Reid, telling them they were ok. Dispatch was sent to whatever police assistance that could be provided to get the remaining two men behind bars and take care of the dead.

Emily couldn't do much to untie anything but once the women were free, she attempted to help one get to the nearest exit.

She didn't make it very far.

"Emily!"

* * *

She registers his voice. She opens her eyes; she didn't even know she had closed them, and finds the ground much closer than she remembered. Her knees had taken the blow; landing on them so hard was not on her agenda but here she was, on the ground. A splatter of fresh blood could be seen just to the left of her. Her right arm was still wrapped around the young woman's shoulders. She was clearly drained and fell with Emily. Before any other hands could reach them, Emily quickly pushes herself up, breathing through the pain and bringing the woman with her.

Emily whispers to her apologetically, comforting her, "I'm sorry sweetie, lost my footing. Let's get you out of here, huh?"

The battered woman nods, holding on to Emily's Kevlar. She couldn't be much older than twenty-one. The silent tears continue to make their way down her stained, dirt streaked face. Emily's heart went out to the woman, feeling her own tears well up in her eyes. Partly from the pain coursing through her body as well as knowing what this woman just went through.

Extremely worried inquiries are made by the team but Emily just says calmly without turning around, "I'm fine. We need to get to the ambulance." She silently thanks her adrenaline for kicking in and keeping her up for this long. That inner drive that she has had since a child keeps her going.

"You're, you're bleeding…" The poor woman's voice trembled as she caught a glance at Emily's other arm.

Blinking hard, the front doors in her blurry view, Emily could only nod and whisper, "I know. I know. Everything's going to be alright."

Hotch follows behind her, one woman encased in his arms. She looked to be the worst of them all. Infection seemed to be already making its way into her body, causing all basic function to shut down. She was going in and out of consciousness and was incapable of standing on her own.

JJ had the other under her arm, walking her slowly out of the room. She didn't see Emily fall but she had seen the blood. They had all heard the fear in Hotch's voice, though. When he had radioed Garcia to get an ambulance sent earlier, they heard him say Emily was injured. No one knew how serious or minor and there hasn't been time to see for themselves. Morgan and Rossi brought up the end, dragging the two men still alive with them.

This was about as clean as they were going to get.

Emily felt and heard her own relief at seeing the flashing lights and the helping hands reaching for them as they exit the warehouse. She gently hands off the woman to one of the paramedics. Her situation was more serious than Emily's anyways. The other women are handed over, stretchers and medical IV bags welcoming the exhausted bodies.

Before she could step away to let them get better access to the others, another hand stops Emily at her back. She looks up to see Hotch staring down at her with pained anxiety. The blood had stopped flowing freely down her arm; now just slight movements brought the sticky substance to lightly pour over the surface of skin. The makeshift bandage Hotch had provided was completely soaked. Her entire arm was numb, though, just like she thought it would be.

Without words, he guides her over to one of their SUVs parked next to the ambulance. Opening the back up and pulling the tailgate down, Hotch has Emily sit gingerly on its' surface. He then proceeds to call over a paramedic not working on one of the others.

She tries to protest. Every ounce of fight left in her was standing at the ready. "I'm ok; those women are what you need to worry about."

Her face is pale and her eyes are heavy lidded. She looks past Hotch and towards the paramedic making his way over with supplies. She shakes her head, despite the pounding protest going on inside. "All of that really isn't necessary. Please, the women are what are important…"

Hotch rests a hand on her good shoulder as the paramedic sets his supplies down on the tailgate and gets what he needs out. The simple touch brings Emily's attention towards Hotch. "Prentiss, look at me." Her eyes meet his and she struggles to keep focus. His voice is urgent and yet that soft tone is back. "Please let them check out your arm. You are important and that arm of yours is going to need medical attention. Please, Emily. Please let them help."

Emily wasn't used to a soft approach from him. She was actually surprised he didn't bark out an order to her. That soothing whisper of breath caresses her face; he was very close to her and she found she liked that he was.

She keeps her sight in line with his. The dark pools seem to pierce right into her, much like a knife but there was no pain in letting him stare. The paramedic gets to work, removing the bloody scrap of shirt around the wound and carefully cutting Emily's sleeve all the way up to her shoulder. He apologizes but Emily could care less about the shirt and pays him no attention.

Her eyes and focus are still on Hotch.

His words float around in her mind. She can't be imagining the deep concern she had heard.

The hand at her shoulder makes its way slowly down to her own hand lying atop her thigh. Hotch latches onto her fingers, his thumb rubbing softly against the skin of her knuckles. Both of their hands are smeared with dried blood. And the knowledge that that blood was Emily's made everything extremely real and that much more important.

The rest of the team is worried. They begin to come up closer, demanding to know if she was ok. Hotch steps back, eye contact lost, letting the others look over Emily. She smiles at them, putting on a brave face and securing that wall. She tries to explain what happened but Hotch beats her to it. He calmly tells them what she endured. When they all are reassured, the paramedic says he's going to need some room and that she'll want the space. Just as they are stepping away, sirens are heard, indicating their help arriving. Two police cars and another ambulance appear down the road, their flashing lights bright in the dim evening.

Emily turns her head away, gasping as the sound rips straight through her ringing ears. Hotch notices and turns to tell the team to go deal with the police and get packed up.

His hand doesn't leave hers though. She was going to need something to grasp onto. The paramedic working on her arm was about to drop the ball and rip the ground out from under her. This was going to be a painful procedure.

Once again the paramedic apologizes as he begins to clean and sanitize the open cut. They'll be leaving soon and Hotch knows an argument will be coming from Emily once she is told she needs to go to the hospital. The paramedic can only do so much and proper supplies and a clean atmosphere were in order.

The paramedic touches a certain spot and the pain comes back full blown. The burning travels the entire length of her arm and Emily tenses at the sensation. So much for numbing and blocking out the pain, she thinks as she squeezes her eyes firmly shut, the image of Hotch still flashing in her mind.

"Son of a bitch…." The words are mumbled as she tries to clench down her teeth, the ache excruciating. Her fingers unconsciously tighten around Hotch's. He moves closer to her; his thigh brushing against her knee. Having some kind of physical connection to her helped him to settle the apprehension he felt.

"Emily."

He again wants to say more but only her name leaves his lips.

She acknowledges his voice; the sound of her name coming from him eased her mind. She allows her eyes to peek open, raising her lashes to his face. Though there was pain in her eyes, Emily managed a small smile. Her willpower was coming back and she knew she was going to get past this. The look in Hotch's eyes only channeled that feeling ever more. Maybe she was just being too hard on herself before.

Suddenly, Hotch speaks, as if unable to contain himself anymore. Paramedic or no, he was going to speak.

"You have nothing to prove to me, Emily. I already know how incredibly strong of a woman you are. I'm…I'm sorry for the way I sounded earlier. The fear for your safety got the better of me and I expressed my anger for what happened to you." He pauses, watching the EMT quickly wrap new gauze around her cleaned arm. "I hate seeing you in pain…"

He drops off, letting the words settle.

Emily swallows, feeling her body slump. He had been scared for her health. He wasn't yelling at her for getting herself into another dangerous situation. Staring at Hotch, her heart starts to beat to a quicker tune. His hand is still wrapped around hers.

The EMT interrupts their moment. "Agent, we're going to have to get you to the hospital quickly. You are going to need IV fluids and pain medication as soon as possible. You've lost a large amount of blood." He checks her pupils with a small flashlight.

Emily blinks, lightly shaking her head as she keeps her vision on Hotch. "I don't want to go to the hospital. Those women are going to need more serious attention. Please, can't…can't you do what needs to be done inside the ambulance so they can go?"

"You are in dire need of stiches and a closer examination of how deep your cut is. An ER is more equipped with what you require. I've done what I can to sterilize for now." The man looks to Hotch. "You are more than welcome to accompany her. I've got the proper medication to at least help with the pain and a small IV until we get to the hospital." He starts to pack up his supplies, motioning them to the closest ambulance; letting them know they'll be leaving quickly.

The other women are being carried into both ambulances. Everyone is ready to go. Hotch squeezes her hand.

Emily sighs, already knowing that she wasn't going to win this. She looks at Hotch apologetically. "I'm sorry…everyone sees that I hate hospitals. It's just a natural reaction." She rolls her lips together, feeling her arm tingle in the most annoying, unpleasant way. "But I'll…I'll go."

"Good." Hotch nods, helping her to stand on her feet. Her head swims and she leans into him, the action unfamiliar and unexpected. All the same, his arm automatically wraps around her middle. Unconsciously Emily blushes as she feels the warmth he exudes. He keeps a hold on her as he closes up the back of the SUV. He can't help himself, that ache in his chest is too strong. Touching her eased the worry and was a reminder that she was alive; that she was going to be ok. He didn't want to let her go.

Before getting into the ambulance, they both look at the rundown warehouse one last time. A chill runs down Emily's spine and Hotch can only scowl at the horrors that took place there.

Never once looking back, they begin to think forward, restless to get home. But not before heading begrudgingly, in Emily's own thoughts, to the hospital.

Once inside the vehicle, Emily blinks slowly, feeling nauseous. Then everything goes completely black.

.~.~.~.~.

Thank you for your reviews/follows! I know I know…I left you hanging again, right?

Let me know what you think!

Love

Lilylynn.


	3. Chapter 3

Aaron Hotchner felt everything happen in slow motion. Was the ambulance crashing? Was reality coming up to bite them in the ass yet again? Why was this torturous pain hoarding over them?

They were sharing an ambulance with the young woman Emily had helped out of the warehouse. She was laid out along a stretcher, an IV attached to the crook of her arm. Her hair was matted to her head and there were dark circles under each closed eye. Her bottom lip was swollen and torn. Cracks of dried blood travelled down along her neck where a cut from her jaw had bled out. The woman wasn't unconscious but was resting for the first time in days. The comfort in knowing two FBI agents were with her along with medical attention left the woman more at ease.

Emily had opted, very determinedly, to sit up and left no room for argument. They sat side by side while the paramedic ran some fluids then turned his attention towards bandaging a scrape along the woman's thigh.

Emily's eyes were focused on the woman and Hotch could tell that she wanted desperately to take the pain and horror away from the young soul. That dire need to help someone lived in her very skin. It's what thrived in them all. Why else would they be doing any of this?

Hotch had let go of her hand. Why did he let go of her hand? He knew the loss of contact hadn't been long. The space between them could not have been very far. But that small space made all the difference. His fingers couldn't tell the temperature change of her skin. He couldn't feel the thump of her pulse running along her wrist and down to each fingertip. He did however see her body slipping slightly.

And then, like a slow moving car crash in the middle of the night, Emily collapses.

With the movement of the vehicle, perhaps hitting a bump in the road has Emily falling the opposite way of Hotch. Despite the space between them, he throws himself forward, managing to grab her before her head reaches the floor. Arms wrapped around her waist and shoulder, Hotch heaves her limp body to rest against his. Her head falls to his shoulder, the flushed skin along her cheeks clammy. The smooth strands of hair brush at his neck and Hotch can't seem to find enough oxygen. His heart was beating out of his chest.

Panic sets in and he immediately calls breathlessly to the paramedic for help.

There were no tires screeching along the pavement. No glass shattered. No painful screams or frightful shouts. His ears didn't ring piercingly from a loud crash. But to Hotch his world was definitely turning traumatically, flipping everything he knew completely over and smashing to pieces.

And again, he asks himself why.

….

* * *

With the help of the paramedic, they manage to lay Emily down on the only other small stretcher that fit along the inside of the ambulance. The space was tight but they make it work without waking the other woman, who was completely out and completely oblivious.

Emily's head lolled to the side, eyes shut away from Hotch. He needed to see her eyes. He needed an answer. Why was this happening to her? Why was she always the one to suffer? Why did she have to push herself so hard? Why were these feelings hurling themselves at him?

The paramedic was working quickly, something Hotch was extremely grateful for and he made a mental note to thank him later. He'd done so much already to help them.

Dried blood was smeared here and there, quite a difference marred against Emily's pale skin. Her gun was still attached to her hip. Her stained Kevlar seemed to swallow the fit body that suddenly looked so frail. The gauze and makeshift bandage wrapped around her injured arm was already discolored and in need of a change. Hotch helped with what he could and in no time Emily was hooked up to machines, IVs in place. The two women were in matching positions and if someone didn't know any better, they would say both had went through the same hell. And ironically, they almost have. This thought has his stomach churning.

The paramedic talks with the driver and tells Hotch they aren't much farther from town. The local hospital had been advised and was setting up for them.

Only slightly eased, Hotch leans forward to gently touch her uninjured arm. His hands skirt along till both engulf her small, blood tarnished hand. And that's when he is reminded of the blood on his own hands, matching hers. Her blood…

He regrets ever letting go of her fingers. Touch was something he wasn't accustomed to, especially when it comes to her. The sudden urge to touch her was unbearable and heartbreaking all the same. The nails along her fingers are extremely short, as usual. Her nervous tick caused her to bite off every fingernail. His heart aches again at the thought of her in pain, virtually always in pain. Whether self-inflicted or by the hands of a sick bastard, she never seemed to be void of discomfort.

The long lashes lay atop her cheeks. If only she would open her eyes.

He wanted to be mad at her. He needed to be furious; that anger should be at a boiling point that he lets slip over. He was the boss, in charge and he ought to be blind with fury. She had endangered herself, knowingly continuing when she should have stopped and rested. He should have made her stop. He should have dragged her ass out of there straightaway. She was stubborn and again imperiled herself without so much of a thought towards what she was doing. The recklessness shown was unacceptable. And the consequences were immovable.

All of these thoughts swirled in his mind, making him dizzy. His lips are thin and tight. His trademark scowl is in place but inside, that resolve was sinking. Despite all, he knew deep down that he couldn't be angry. They were both doing their job. The harsh tone he'd put into those words earlier was worry and fear. He was extremely concerned and within that emotion, heated feelings pushed through.

Normally punishment would be put into play, effective immediately when they get back to Quantico. She would be chained to a desk, doing piles of paperwork that no one in any sense would want to do. She would be banned from field work for quite a time. Hell, she probably wouldn't see the light of day for weeks. That's how angry he should be.

But this wasn't normal. And he wasn't angry. Well…not necessarily. She was passed out along a stretcher, white as a sheet and bleeding still. Emily had pressed herself so much that exhaustion and loss of blood kicked in. This was serious.

Hotch is frustrated more than anything. Every situation they've been in always ends with someone being hurt. And nine times out of ten that someone was Emily. He was simply tired of that conclusion. After everything that she has already been through, this was just the icing on the cake.

Who was he kidding? If this was Morgan or Rossi, he wouldn't be as anxious as he is now. This was Prentiss. Emily…

His stomach starts to twist even more and he knew a sickening knot was forming. He squeezes her hand gently, trying in some way to get her attention, to bring her back to consciousness. His small attempt goes unnoticed as Emily is still, lashes unmoving.

The moving of the vehicle jostles her hair slightly.

"Dammit Emily…" He mumbles to himself. He's been referring to her as Emily rather than Prentiss more so as of late. A switch had been flicked somewhere and her first name was comfortable rolling off his tongue now. What was she to him?

He understood more and more that they were much alike. Maybe that's why the anger wasn't as present as it should be. Hotch realizes that more than likely he would have done the exact same thing. He would have continued pressing on till the job was done. Ignoring every concern thrown his way; they needn't bother, he would tell himself. Exerting his strength and body to a point where all control is lost.

Hardheaded didn't even begin to describe the half of it.

Sighing deeply, Hotch closes his eyes for a moment. He hangs his head, feeling the past few hours weigh heavy upon him. So much has happened. The entire case flashes behind his lids, causing a shuddering breath to be released. And the knot tightens.

Emily's hand remains motionless.

He is more than sure his anger will come in time. But professing that rage wasn't important. Not now, at least. Seeing her eyes and hearing her breathe, watching her move and smile, this is what's important. Hearing that her arm would heal perfectly, with as little damage as possible; that is what he needed to perceive.

A turn is made and then another. Hotch could tell the ambulance was coming to a stop. Before he knew what was going on, the back doors fly open and a medical team was there waiting. Talk about being sufficient.

They get the other woman out quickly; she was gone and out of his sight before he could even blink.

The paramedic steps down from the ambulance, information rolling off his tongue, as he does this every day. Hotch is barely standing on weak legs and two pairs of hands reach up to pull Emily's stretcher down. Hotch has no choice but to follow, his hands swiftly pulled out of their embrace around Emily's as she is being carried away from him.

The waiting doctor and the paramedic exchange a few words. Then without further ado, they are wheeling her into the building. Hotch can barely breathe. He tries to follow but is stopped by a hand on his shoulder.

"Sir, I'm sorry but you'll have to go in through that side door and check in with the secretary in the waiting room."

The paramedic, whom Hotch was silently praising before, now has Hotch silently cursing.

"But why can't I go in with her? I'm the Unit Chief, can't I be allowed in? I need to know how she is. She's one of my agents." He was rambling now, but he didn't care. He even fumbles with his badge, trying to find every attempt to let him go forward. Desperate anger and worry flared inside of him, threatening his resilient self-control.

The paramedic looks sympathetically up at him. "I understand Agent Hotchner. It's just the hospitals protocol. I promise you, they are an exceptional medical team. She is in good hands. Please…the secretary is a sweet woman. She'll keep you updated. I promise you."

The man lightly claps him on the shoulder then turns to pack up.

Hotch sighs deeply, trying to calm himself. The FBI badge goes back into his pocket reluctantly. He looks down, realizing he won't win this unless he cooperates.

He turns to the paramedic and extends his hand. "Thank you…for everything."

They shake and without waiting any longer, Hotch makes his way into the hospital.

…

* * *

Behind closed lids, Emily can make out a bright light shining down upon her. She was slowly coming to.

The first feeling to slap her right across the face was pain. She was experiencing several different kinds of pain. A dull ache thudded in her head. Sharp jolts running up and down her arm, a constant reminder to what has occurred. As if she needed one.

The next thing that she grasped was she is in a hospital.

_Ah hell no._

This was the last place that she ever wanted to be.

Her eyes open slightly. That bright light is almost blinding at first and she blinks several times to adjust. She looks down and a pristine, white bandage was wrapped around her now well cleaned arm. An image of how the mangled, blood splattered limb looked before passes through her mind.

She could also recall Hotch; his profound, dark eyes piercing hers through the night. She could still feel his hands, large, warm and calming, holding hers tightly. Where were his hands now? That warmth was no longer there. His absence was profound.

He had let go of her hand. He had to.

She had passed out; completely blacked out away from everything around her.

Suddenly a face joins the light and Emily sucks in a startled breath, unconsciously pushing herself farther back into the pillows. "Ah, Agent Prentiss…Welcome back! I'm Doctor Nicholson. You had us worried there for a bit." He pauses and Emily can only stare. Her body felt like every limb had been ran through an industrial sized grinder.

The doctor continues, his kind eyes moving to check a chart in his hand. "I know things may seem hazy right now for you. Let me explain. You are here at St. Joseph's Medical Hospital. You've been here for just a few hours now. Your team is down in the waiting room. You were brought in with an extreme amount of blood loss and your arm had an incredibly deep cut. We have managed to repair tissue and as you can see we have it stitched up. Thankfully there were no infections and what was torn will heal with time. It was a smooth surgery with no complications. I promise you, the stitching was precise. You will have a bit of scarring, but nothing severe. But after all, the cut wasn't text book as you know. The curve, direction and force used were out there to be sure. Do you understand?"

Heart rate coming back down to somewhat normal, Emily slowly nods. Swallowing, she tries out her voice. "Yes. Yes I do."

He smiles, the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes showing. A couple of nurses were working behind him, clipboards in their hands.

"I just need to ask a question or two and check your IVs, then soon I can send for your team to come up here to join you if you'd like."

Her team…Hotch…yes, she needed to see them. She nods again, despite a dense throbbing at the back of her head, "Of course. Yes I would. Thank you."

"Very well, Agent Prentiss. On a scale of one to ten, ten being the strongest how is your level of pain?"

"Um, I'd say about a seven."

"Alright…I will go ahead and up the pain medication one if you'd like?" No protest was made. "We have run fluids and I just need you to know that this will take rest and time to get your full strength back. It's a lengthy process, especially with the amount you've lost. You'll more than likely experience moments of dizziness, which is common. But we don't want what happened in the ambulance to happen again now do we? I'll be informing your Unit Chief of a time frame. Bed rest is best as the saying goes." He smiles kindly. "I would recommend for you to stay here for at least a night or two. Well, if you have no questions I will go sign for a prescription and send for your team."

Emily swallows the lump in her throat. Despite the kind help they have provided, the idea of her here much longer still made her cringe. "Ok. Thank you, Doctor. Thank you very much."

They shake hands, her right arm not completely useless and soon she is left alone. She could tell a difference flowing through her body as the medication settles in. The pain was slowly being swept away.

Before she had time to even start getting anxious about being single-handed in a hospital, a knock is heard. She turns her head, expecting to see all the different faces of her team.

She finds, instead, only Hotch entering.

….

* * *

His eyes always brooding, always stern now look all over her with a compassion that sends a thrilling shiver to wrap around Emily's spine.

He moves farther into the room. Emily notices he still has his Kevlar on. Though his hands have been washed, she sees that he hasn't changed his shirt. The Kevlar covered the majority of the torn fabric but she knew if he turned just so, a small portion of skin would be seen.

He is still moving closer. His eyes latch onto her bandaged arm and she can see his Kevlar stretch with the heavy breath he takes. He seems to struggle to speak and his eyes are restless upon her.

"Emily…"

His voice sounds torn. Managing a small smile, Emily pushes down the quiver in her stomach. She told herself that feeling was just from the aftereffects of surgery and not from his presence. If only she could believe that.

"…Hey Hotch."

Their eyes lock. He is right by the side of her bed now. That warmth she was missing was secretly returning. Silence welcomes them both, only to be interrupted by the beat of her heart monitor. Hotch let the sound comfort him. Not only seeing her alive, awake and breathing but hearing her heartbeat calmed the storm raging inside of him.

Her right hand is near his and Hotch finds himself itching to reach for the contact. But he continues to stand there, staring into her eyes.

Emily rolls her lips between her teeth, feeling a slight exposed. Breaking the stillness, she offers an apology.

"I'm sorry about your shirt."

She watches through wary eyes as his expression changes to curiosity. Then he realizes what she means and he can't help it. A small laugh leaves his mouth and he's shaking his head slowly at her. His eyes are bright and relieved. Emily lets another smile grace her lips as her stomach flutters again.

His voice rumbles as he speaks, stepping right up to her, black dress pants brushing the edge of the hospital bed. "You have been through hell and back and all you can worry about is my shirt?"

She shrugs lightly with her right shoulder, "Yeah, well...I hate to see your good work shirt ruined. I am, Hotch I am really sorry. For everything that has happened recently…"

Now he's shaking his head but with a different meaning, "No. No Emily, no apologies. I'm just happy to know you are ok. That is what's important over anything else." He takes a breath, losing eye contact with her to look down at her hand. "I wanted to be mad. Trust me; I knew I needed to be. But while I was phoning the team, pacing in the waiting room and wearing a hole in the carpet, I realized yet again how close and how quick things can transpire."

This time he doesn't hold himself back.

His hand covers hers.

He swallows hard, "You'd think by now I would get that through my thick skull. All of us, really, need to accept this fact." He felt out of his element for a moment. This wasn't him. Aaron Hotchner didn't talk like this. He didn't open up like this. The question flashed in his mind again, 'What was she to him?' What was it that made this different?

Emily nods, watching as their fingers intertwine. She couldn't help but still feel shocked at the idea of Hotch touching her. They don't touch, simple as that. And suddenly their hands are together like they do this every day.

And that warmth was back.

Then a thought rushes to Emily and she asks quickly, breaking the spell.

"The women! How are they? Have you heard anything? Are they ok?"

That stricken, hard look appears again across Hotch's face. Emily could decipher her heart falling at the look.

"Carrie, the one that was with us in the ambulance, she will be okay. She's still weak but it's all promising. Jessica, whom JJ helped, is going through a lot and infection took charge in her right thigh before we even got her out of the building. It's not favorable on whether they can save her leg or not. There is round the clock care for her. And Allison…" His thumb moves slightly, whispering along Emily's knuckles. Another lump forms in his throat and he forces the words out. "Allison was strong…but the damage done to her body was too much." He didn't continue and Emily didn't need to hear anymore.

Silence overcomes them again.

As a tear slips down her cheek, Emily fights to breathe. Her eyes focus on the white sheets covering her legs but she knows his eyes are still on her. Watching, searching, and becoming familiar all over again. He was pacifying himself as well as her.

In that small knowledge she finds comfort, something she never thought she'd be feeling this much, this completely with Hotch. And that helped.

Through the tears and sorrow, hope was still within reach.

…..

* * *

I would like to thank each and every one of you for taking the time to review. I appreciate the follows and the saves but actually reading your thoughts…now that is really special.

I plan to do one more chapter and I really want to have some true one on one with Hotch and Prentiss, away from all the pain and hospitals. But we will all have to see. Thank you again!

Love,

Lilylynn


	4. Chapter 4

Time had always been their foe. The minutes would rival the hours in an endless circle. There was a constant battle, uphill both ways.

And now, in the present, time needed to be their friend. The seconds, the days, all began to ease. The enemy fell back into shadow. Time ended up giving in. Time began to help.

…

* * *

Emily Prentiss sighed deeply, resting her head back against the crook of the jets' seat and window. As her eyes gaze out past the sun's late afternoon rays, watching the slow change of scenery thousands of feet below, she can't help but feel a sense of calm.

They were on their way home.

Only one day had passed since Emily woke in a hospital. Against doctors' orders, she insisted that she would rather continue her healing process back home. There was really no room for argument, though the team couldn't press enough for her to take it slow. Hotch made sure to keep a watchful eye on her and had JJ stick close to her side.

Before leaving she thankfully retrieved her prescription for pain. She parted with the doctor on good terms, as long as she promised to give enough time for the stitches to come out.

As that thought crosses her mind, she drags her eyes away from the window, away from the sinking sun, to look down at her arm. Her poor arm. The doctor had been right. There was indeed going to be scarring. Hell, with a cut like that, she expected a scar. But he had done a wonderful job and she knew the mark wouldn't be that bad. She hoped, at least. Scars were a part of her nonetheless. They were a part of the team.

She absentmindedly picks at the edge of the bandage covering the stitches. There were nine stitches, to be exact. She vaguely reminded herself that at best she wasn't picking at her fingernails. That would only last for so long. Give her time. Those nervous ticks, those little tells never go unnoticed anymore, she knew.

Emily also senses someone looking at her. Someone was watching her. And with the feeling that her very soul was being stripped bare, the situation left her lungs craving more air than usual.

JJ sat next to her, proof reading their summary from the case. Her focus was so engrossed in the small mountain of paperwork. Every other member of her team was busy sleeping or reading.

No, these eyes watching her were dark. They were deep and drowning. These eyes dip into every little detail, never missing anything. These eyes carried her through the pain.

Hotch sat across from her.

Emily lifts her own eyes slowly until her focus narrowed in upon the man.

The ripped shirt was no longer hanging helplessly from his body. A bright white button down was now his chosen attire. A pen is in his hand and a folder full of papers is in front of him upon the small table between the seats and them. His posture is forward. And his eyes are on her.

Those damn eyes.

The papers may be before him but he paid them no attention at the moment. So much was spoken in his eyes as he watched her fidget in her seat.

She sighs inwardly, quirking an eyebrow at him. No matter what he may convey, she still had a hard time figuring out every detail. Profiler or not.

What were the thoughts swirling in his mind? What did he see when he looked at her?

What was happening between them?

Why were they sharing gazes for longer than normal? Since when do they do that?

Then all the questions stopped. When a situation throws everyone for a loop and one of their own gets hurt, emotions and thoughts and feelings are brought completely to the forefront. It was a screwy sort of logic. But it's just the way the world worked. How they acted upon these considerations, well, that was another thing.

And these exact sensations were hitting her right across the face.

He obviously was seeing her in a new light. There was no scrutiny in his eyes so Emily knew he was no longer judging or looking for weaknesses. He was no longer angry.

In response to her silent questions, Hotch blinks, his lips curving up ever so slightly. He wanted to know how she was feeling. The same compassion she felt from him in the hospital waves over her and those inner shivers come into play once again.

Smiling back at him, Emily reassures him as well as herself. He stares for a moment longer, a slight raise to his lips and then slowly lowers his head.

As he goes about his work; after all, this is Hotch we're talking about, Emily takes a deep, shaky breath. She continues to watch him, knowing that he knows she is. There was no fear in that acknowledgement. This was easily slipping into a comfortable balance between them and that allowed this new luxury.

To watch each other and not have to explain was wonderful.

In the back of her mind where her boxes are usually stored, she reminds herself to buy him another shirt. The sudden thought of her replacing his poor, torn shirt with a new one settled within her. It was only right. She pushed away all thoughts that would point her in the direction of what that would mean to her and to him and to them. All she knew was that she couldn't rest completely if she didn't do this small act of kindness.

As her eyes follow the path his hand makes along the paper, Emily repeats to herself that that was all it would be, despite her sudden want of more.

…

* * *

Two and a half weeks have passed. Two and a half weeks away from the horrors that took place in that rundown warehouse. Two and a half weeks of healing.

Emily had yet to get the stitches out of her arm. They were due to come off in two days. She was itching to get them off now and away from her forever. To calm the nerves twisting her insides she would pick at her nails so she didn't rip each stitch out herself, one by one.

She had, however, gone and bought Hotch a new shirt. He had given her a couple days away from work to rest, despite her protests. She used one of those days to go shopping. All the while walking through the men's department store, she tried to push down the relentless thoughts of what buying him a shirt could mean. He may even ask her himself and she repeats inside her mind that this was her being nice. It was only common sense to want to fix something that was torn. After everything he has done for her, it was the least she could do.

After some debate, she decides on a deep blue button down. It was sharp, strong, handsome, all man. She knew it would fit him perfect.

Now almost three weeks have passed and she hasn't had the courage to give it to him. Things were going as well as they can be at the office. A new case had already come and gone. And for the most part, everything was considerably normal. He still kept his watchful eyes on her when they all had moments of silence. Not much was said between them but there was an understanding in the way her eyes met his. Was she just being a coward? She supposed she was just waiting. Waiting for that right timing and mulling over the possibilities in her muddled mind.

Yeah, coward fits.

….

* * *

Her stitches were finally gone. The scar left behind is strange and hard to get used to seeing in the mirror. But she isn't haunted by the mark. Her sleep lost isn't from reliving the moment when she turned that corner and was being slashed at. The puddles of blood never entered her mind.

No.

No, the little sleep she has been getting is because of a touch. Two days later and it's still affecting her. One damn touch along her back and she was thrown for a loop. Two days before, everyone had wished her luck as she left early to go to the ER for her appointment. Hugs were given all around and she promised she would be fine going alone and would be back in no time, stitch free.

Hotch hadn't been in the bullpen and when she looked up to his office the lights were off and the door was closed. He must be busy with other colleagues. Emily shrugs, knowing she needed to get going. One last wave to the team and she's pushing past the glass doors and aiming herself towards the elevators. The shiny metal doors open before she has a chance to press the button. Inside is Hotch. His step falters as he realizes she needs to go. Instead of exiting and switching her positions, he merely steps back, farther into the elevator and motions for her to enter. For some reason or other she wants to hesitate. But her legs carry her on into the metal box and the doors seal their fate when she presses the ground floor.

"Do you want someone to go with you?" His voice stirs something within her. She licks the corner of her mouth, swiveling her head to meet his questioning stare.

"I think I'll be ok. Just a quick procedure and I'll be back after lunch." Her lips slide into an easy smile.

He nods, jaw tight and brow hard.

They reach the ground floor quicker than they had both hoped for. As the ding signals their arrival, Emily dips her head, murmuring a 'see you later'.

Hotch steps with her, his hand automatically coming up to gently press at her back. His fingers lightly glide along her spine as he silently ushers her out of the elevator. He seems to want to walk her to her car but knows deep down he probably shouldn't. It wasn't that it would be uncharacteristic, but it was something he just never had the opportunity to do and it would seem strange to start now. So he settles for a small smile and one last sweet brush along her suit clad back before he lets her walk past him.

"See you after a while, then?"

Feeling her face burn, she turns to look at him and shakes her head in agreement.

The doors of the elevator close but he doesn't mind calling for another.

"Good luck, Emily."

Walking sideways, she smiles brightly at him.

"Thank you, Hotch."

She turns back around and continues towards her car, very much aware that he was still standing there, waiting and watching.

He doesn't push the button to open the doors and take him back to their floor until she had driven away out of his sight.

….

* * *

Now here she is two days later, sitting at her desk, wrapping up the last of her case folder. She hoped the dark circles under her eyes had been missed by everyone. Stifling a yawn, Emily signs her name along the dotted line. It was late and the team was one by one slowly filing out the door.

She had chosen a long sleeve shirt for the day. Emily was more than certain that would be her attire for quite a time now. She wasn't exactly ready to show off her scar for everyone to see. No one pushed her to see the mark anyways and for that she was thankful.

Glancing up, Emily smiles at the small tokens of care lain out along her desk. Her team was something, she'll give them that. Flowers and chocolates and coffee all joined the litter of papers on her desk. What more could a girl want?

Stretching her legs out, Emily hears a rustle of a paper bag and is instantly reminded of the shirt wrapped up under her desk. She had decided today would be the time to finally give Hotch this small gift of appreciation. This was what else she wanted. Maybe she could get a decent night's sleep afterward. That was what she needed. She desired to stop reliving the touch. At the same time, she secretly flushed in hesitant excitement whenever he came near.

She wanted to slap herself for sounding that way.

Looking around the bullpen, Emily notices she is the only one left. Up the stairs, a light is on in Hotch's office. His blinds are open and she catches a glimpse of his dark hair.

Forcing down any sudden nerves, she puts her plan into action.

Closing the finished case folder, she stands slowly. The atmosphere around her was quiet, waiting. Leaning to grab the paper bag under her desk, Emily feels her heart quicken. This time she does mentally slap herself for being so jittery. Securing her hold on the bag and tucking the folder under her arm, her heel clad feet carry her towards his office.

His door is closed. She checks the time. It was ten minutes to eleven; not that late considering, but still, everyone else was gone for the night. They should be too.

Knocking lightly so not to alarm him. A pause then a weary sounding 'Come in.' is heard.

Opening the door, Emily finds Hotch working tirelessly in a thick folder, huddled between two large stacks of even more folders. She had to smile at the concentration and the dedication he lived by.

"Hey. Here's my case report. I didn't even know everyone else had left, I was so wrapped up in finishing it…Looks like you are too."

She watches as his hand moves swiftly, signing his name. He gently laughs, closing the folder and laying it on top of the pile on his right.

Finally he looks up, setting his pen down, eyes meeting hers.

Emily steps farther into the room, handing the folder to him. He takes it; fingers brushing one another's, putting it with the others as he replies, "Yes, it's hard to stop sometimes when you know they are just piling up around you, ironically so."

She nods in agreement. "Tell me about it."

His eyes drink her in, aware of her appearance and the bag in her hand. There was no way around his stare.

"How are you feeling?"

She takes her time to answer, sitting down with ease into the seat across from his desk, placing the bag at her feet.

"Um, I'm well. In all honesty, I'm sure I could be better but I'm hanging in there. I woke up this morning, so that's a plus. My arm is tense and throbs at times but it's nothing I can't handle. With the help of pain meds of course."

She can feel his dark eyes trace the contours of her face. He takes a deep breath, the strain in his chest causing his voice to hitch.

"…You're not sleeping well, though, are you?"

Emily looks down at that, curling a strand of hair behind her ear, confirming his question.

"Nothing surpasses you, does it Hotch?" She raises her head back up to see in his eyes that same caring concern he was showing before. Her heart thudded in her chest. The knowledge that her and Hotch were the only two around flooded her mind.

She continues. "No, I'm not. But I know it won't last long. I'll snap out of it. I promise."

Hotch is silent as he remains watching her. She feels extremely exposed, licking the corner of her lips. At the same time and for the first time the feeling also ventured into intoxicating. It was too much but not enough, all with one look. The looks were edging precariously upon smoldering and they both knew it, leaving Emily with a heady sense of want.

Needing to change the subject, Emily perks up. "Anyways, I've got something for you."

She proffers the bag to him now, over the abundance of files. The confused curiosity creeping into his face has Emily sure and unsure all in one. Was this the right thing to do after all?

Emily covers the doubt quickly, shoving the offensive thing into a box in her mind and pushes forward.

"Go on, don't worry. It's…it's just a little something to show my appreciation. You've…done a lot for me and your help in that warehouse and so on…well; I couldn't just let that go without thanking you…"

She falters, highly aware that she was rambling.

Hotch's face is unreadable now. She couldn't tell what he was thinking. His hands wrap around the handles as his eyes travel from her to the bag.

His mouth opens as if he wants to ask her something, to say anything but he doesn't. Nothing comes out. The office remains silent besides the rustling of the bag.

He sits the small bag on his lap and without further ado, pushes the wrapping aside. A hand disappears into the wrapping only to reappear, pulling the neatly folded shirt out of the confines. Emily sees him swallow hard as he places the bag on the floor to hold up the shirt with both hands. The fabric falls out of its' professional fold. His face is now obscured from her view.

Emily bites her lip, nervously picking at her fingernails. That tell of hers was back.

The long sleeve shirt was much like his other work shirts. Crisp and well-tailored, the blue would only accentuate his persona. She just hoped he wouldn't freak out or some way or other find the gift to be offensive and not accept it. She could probably crawl into the floor and never reappear if that happened.

The seconds slowed and to Emily, sitting across from him, it felt like an eternity. Finally, he lowers his arms, face coming back into view. She is greeted with a dimple, his eyes sparkling.

"Emily…"

His voice is incredibly soft.

She opens her mouth before she can even stop the flow of words running off of her tongue. "I know, I know. But I couldn't stand the fact that I ruined a perfectly good shirt. It's bothered me for weeks now." Her heart is pounding loud within her ears and she knows her face is starting to flush.

Both profilers could see and couldn't deny the attraction that flowed between them.

Mirth was written in his eyes.

"You know…I haven't given a second thought about that shirt, Emily. And you didn't ruin anything. You couldn't if you tried. That was my decision and I would do it again, if God forbid need be. Situations like that, well, you don't need to think sometimes." He pauses, eyes going back to the shirt. "Having said that, thank you…this is a very nice shirt. And if I'm not mistaken, this is a very expensive shirt. Emily, you didn't have to do this."

Skimming her hand along her arm, feeling the slight puckered skin underneath the cotton, Emily could only quietly reply with, "I wanted to."

Her lashes are down; therefore she misses the raise of his. He stares at her, mesmerized.

A verdict made, Hotch sits the shirt on top of the folders and pushes his chair away. Standing up, he walks around his desk towards her. His legs seemed heavy but he had never felt surer. That stoic, stubborn wall of his was waning, finally.

Emily is surprised by his sudden movement, startled by him coming up so close to her, his hand entering her view.

He was proffering his hand.

Not in the way to shake but to help. To lift her up.

She gradually meets his eyes and what she finds in those dark depths is the purest, calmest man before her. She'd never seen him more at ease. He was happy and beautiful.

Every wicked thought about how he didn't trust her or didn't see her vanished out of her mind. Her boxes were clear. Her attention was open.

Raising her hand, she wraps her fingers around his and is soon pulled lightly to her feet.

Now almost at eye level and not a few inches apart, Hotch smiles. His dimples were even cuter up close.

"Thank you, Emily."

The words were whispered but swam around her, creating little chills along her body. He then envelops her into his arms. They both marveled at how easy they were slipping into each other's gravities.

That warmth she had felt those weeks ago now completely encased them both. She smiles into his shoulder.

"Thank you…Hotch."

His touch was upon her again. There was no way she would be forgetting this feeling any time soon. She might as well kiss sleeping goodbye. His smell caresses her body and suddenly Emily didn't care if she ever got sleep again.

Hotch is incredibly tender and careful of where her arm is. The placement of both of his held her snug without putting any pressure along her scar.

He can't help but run a hand along one shoulder blade, the other at the small of her back, creating even more of a fusion of quivers down Emily's spine.

She places her own arms around his middle, new to this proximity. His back flowed like any strong, hardworking man's back would. His height is perfect and Emily fit right into his solid body.

As they breathe together, a mutual agreement is wordlessly made. Neither would leave the other. Neither could, even if they wanted to. This deep attachment may not have appeared till recently but it had always been there, under the surface. They couldn't hide anymore.

Helping each other out of the dark, Hotch and Emily breathe as one, swaying comfortably where they stood.

…

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Thank you for reading! Would love to know what you thought. Another chapter? Thank you for your uplifting words and amazing support on all of my stories.

Love

lilylynn


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